


Home at Last

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, M/M, Rare Pairings, i guess this is a thing now, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Overlapping with the end of AIOS, how Glen and Aldous get it together at long last.
Relationships: Glen Scott/Aldous Germaine
Comments: 33
Kudos: 30





	1. Lighthouse Keeping

“Poor Jack…” Aldous tuts, as he and Glen pass through the foyer, to the other side of the house and on towards the kitchen. “And Llewellyn, for that matter. He had little choice with having to work with that _awful_ man, he couldn’t have seen this coming, but… to be so surprised by it.”

“I’d rather be in Jack’s place, if I’m honest. Sitting there and watching the man you love hurt, when you can’t do anything… sounds worse to me. I’ve taken lumps before and I could again, and I’d recover well enough, but sitting and watching...”

“Oh, I don’t want to think about that.” He covers his mouth, shakes his head. “What is is dreadful enough, dear, I can’t think about you hurt as well.”

“All right.” Glen’s hand returns briefly to the small of his back, his touch firm and reassuring. “Don’t go letting your imagination run away with you.”

“It’s harder, when it’s a friend-- it’s rarely a close friend. But I’ve known Jack such a while now… I can do the work, but it takes a toll. It’s a little bit different from when it’s just… the boys I suppose.”

“How many boys come to you for this?” Glen asks, getting cups down from the china hutch and half-watching Aldous.

“A fair few. Any who know me, if they haven’t someone else to go to.” Aldous keeps his voice placid. “Friends, yes, and friends of friends, whoever needs me can call on me-- things like this, we all have to do what we can for each other. Perhaps… I can’t help thinking, what you said to me…”

“That you’re a beacon? No perhaps about it.” He leans against the counter, watches Aldous begin steeping tea, begin laying out the tea tray, everything _precise_. “You… you keep a lighthouse burning. I haven’t… I used to do what I could. Boys who were picked up-- not my friends, but boys who couldn’t afford it, if the charges weren’t likely to stick, if they could still do damage… every once in a while I could make a problem disappear for someone. Not too often, not enough to be caught, but sometimes. I’m in no position now, to do much for anyone. I suppose I just had to say-- I think it’s admirable, that you put yourself out there. Not only for your friends… that you’d do this-- that you do this.”

“You do what you can… you’re here, same as I am. Whoever had come through the door today, you would be here. It’s a… unique position I’ve carved out for myself. As a celibate, I can’t be prosecuted for laws I haven’t broken-- I have enough people who will testify to it, I have a certain lack of physical evidence. But… I make little secret of my inclination. I can be open, in a way even those in the artistic set might be afraid to be, if they had personal lives to hide. And… I am a frivolous-seeming man. People don’t expect to see me harboring fugitives, handling medical care… in the cases where those in need of me are in need of even greater discretion than usual, well. I’m below suspicion of doing anything very serious with my time.”

“And… you’re committed to that.” Glen looks down at his feet. “The life of a celibate. That’s… an integral part of your safety.”

“Not only mine. Well…” Aldous glances up at him, the downward tilt of his profile, the way the light in the kitchen sets a glow about his hair. The breath catches in his chest. “To be honest, I didn’t think it likely, that that would change. Celibacy.”

And then, Glen is cupping his cheek, is leaning in, their lips only just making contact before he’s drawing back again.

“Sorry-- oh, God, Aldous, I’m sorry-- I shouldn’t have… I know how you feel. I know-- Gods, Scott, you _damn_ fool-- I shouldn’t have done that. And I won’t-- I wouldn’t jeopardize you, or do anything to hurt you, I just… I don’t know. The urge came upon me so suddenly this time I couldn’t stop myself, but I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

“The urge to?” Aldous’ hand floats up to his lips, his mind moving slow. A mistake, clearly-- and… all he can think is that it hadn’t been Glen’s intention to play with his heart. That he’s sorry to have done. He understands there _are_ feelings, he doesn’t wish to take advantage of them. That’s fair, he thinks. 

“I appreciate all the kindness you’ve shown me, and I would hate to ruin that. And I could move out tomorrow if you liked--”

“I most certainly don’t like, really I don’t. I’d never want that, just because you… you’ve had an impulse and thought better of it, that’s… Any man might.”

An impulse… Glen had called it an _urge_ to, he can’t quite wrap his head around that, the _urge_ to. But he can’t imagine throwing him out just for having teased him with a very sweet moment only to think better, to pull back, to… to realize it wasn’t the right thing.

“You’re too kind. But… that’s… that’s no surprise now, is it?” Glen takes his hand, holds it warm between both his own. “You’re _too_ kind, Aldous. I-- I appreciate that. And… I won’t jeopardize you. In any way.”

“I know. Thank you. I-- I think… just at this moment-- I can’t think about what’s just happened, not for a little while, not because of you, but--”

“You have a higher duty?”

“If you wish to put it that way. You make it sound much grander than it feels.” He squeezes Glen’s hand, before taking his own back and turning to the tea tray. 

“How does it feel?”

“It just feels… necessary. It doesn’t feel special, or sacred, or any of those things, tonight. It feels like the only thing to be done, and I am here to do it, and… I haven’t really any room for feelings about it all. I can have my feelings when it’s over. There’s just work to be done. Perhaps that doesn’t make any sense.”

Glen falls into step with him. “That’s how I always felt. Going into work, having something to do, maybe something important. Maybe not, not every day, but… when it was, that was how I felt. It was there and I was there to do it. I could feel things when the work was through.”

“Oh.” Aldous smiles over at him, briefly. “Oh.”

They linger a silent moment in the parlor, tread lightly, re-entering the sunroom. Llewellyn is on his feet when they come in, bent halfway over to gently fuss over Jack.

“Tea?” Aldous greets. 

“I have to go and get my own things, overnight bag. I didn’t think of me, before.” He shakes his head, giving Jack’s hair a last tender touch. “Look after him?”

“I don’t need constant looking-after.” Jack rolls his eyes-- at least, he seems to roll the one he can open.

“Of _course_. Just lock the front door when you come back in.” Aldous sets the tray down, so that he and Glen can ease Jack up to sit-- and Llewellyn crosses from the doorway in only a few long strides, to kiss him goodbye all over again once they have, the least-bruised spots along his brow, fingertips barely touching the least-bruised spots along his jaw.

It’s… sweet. Often, Aldous finds himself taking care of someone with no one else to turn to-- there’s no doting lover to witness. Or, there’s a pair in similar shape, who might cling to each other while he does his best for both. In all the years people have needed him, he hasn’t often watched this sort of devotion in action. Of course, they’re always sweet, and Llewellyn is always devoted-- the way he sits at Jack’s feet during book club meetings and lays his head upon a knee, and looks up in adoration, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. But whatever sort of devoted pet he is at book club, he’s something else now, prowling and protective as he is tender. Much as Aldous may try to focus on fixing the tea, he’s a witness to it.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I know.” Jack touches the back of his hand. “I love you. I’ll be just fine.”

“He’s in good hands.” Glen says, with the fullest weight of his reassurance, hand moving to Llewellyn’s shoulder. He steers him to the door with one last pat to the back. “Get your errand over with, we won’t let anything happen here.”

“Careful, now.” Aldous hands the first teacup off to Jack. His hands are steady, he doesn’t worry about the cup-- and anyhow, Glen had gotten out the plainest and sturdiest set of cups from the hutch. Which is not to say they are very either, but Aldous wouldn’t worry about them. Not as if it’s his gilt-edged navy with the roses. He’s more worried about Jack, between the nasty-looking injury done to his lip, and the heat of he tea.

It’s not Jack’s first time… but it’s by far the worst of what Aldous has seen, since they’ve known each other.

Glen sits at Jack’s other side. If need be, they could keep him upright. Mostly, they do their best to try and keep him distracted from the pain so that he can get some tea into him at least. Glen tells anecdotes from work, Aldous describes an upcoming gallery exhibition an acquaintance is putting on, and Jack sips very, very slowly until his tea goes cold and weariness overtakes him.

“We’ll set the guest room.” Aldous promises. “I think between the three of us we can put you in a real bed for the night-- and keep your detective from sleeping on the floor to be next to you-- but, for now, you rest here.”

“Aldous… thank you.”

“Of _course_.”

Glen gets him re-settled, it doesn’t really take two of them to get him lying down again. Neither of them leave, until he’s sleeping soundly, and then they move in concert. Glen takes Aldous’ elbow, as they start up the stairs, unnecessarily solicitous, but… welcome. This evening, very welcome.

“What do they need?”

“The linens are clean… I’ll just want to dust a bit, I think, and make sure there’s firewood…” Aldous says, thinking over what they might need. “Set some books, he won’t be very mobile tomorrow.”

“I’ll take care of the fire, then.” He nods. “I’ve got enough wood stocked I can carry some over if there’s not enough. I’ll build one up, they’ll only have to strike a match later.”

“You’re a dear.”

“Just doing my part. You’re the one running this house. It-- do you mind my saying something?”

“I never have yet.”

“You used to remind me of Owen. The obvious similarities, I suppose.”

“I don’t still?”

“You both made yourself shine bright so that you could bring others to safety. That’s still true. But… your home is a very different kind of haven. Not to say his wasn’t important, in some ways I think it saved me. A place just to exist freely is… vital, sometimes. And yes, boys went to him when they were in trouble, too. When they needed to know a lawyer, when they needed a shoulder to cry on after a heartbreak, when they lost friends over secrets coming to light… But people didn’t go to him for this. I can’t even imagine. For a lot of things, but not for this. And this… is hard work. I don’t think I can begin to understand, how you leave yourself open to this work, all the time, sometimes for those you’re very close to, and then… when you go back out into the world, I know you’ll be the same old Aldous. And people will think you’re frivolous. And they won’t see what you do for ours. They can’t. But… I’m sorry that it means they’ll never know how strong you are.”

“Oh… _Glen_.” His hand flutters to his heart, his eyes are damp, his lungs and his stomach feel tight. “I don’t need the world to know that. I don’t need the whole wide world full of ordinary people to know a lot of things about me. Always been… best they don’t, really, though I weather the storms when they do. But… it means a great deal to me that _you_ think so. As an… extraordinary person.”

“One extraordinary person to another?” Glen smiles, the sort of warm, wide, easy smile Aldous doesn’t think he shows to too many people nowadays. One that’s been a close-held secret over a hard winter.

“I suppose so.”

“I just… I know-- right now, we-- There are things neither of us can think about at the moment, but I still… I need you to know the esteem that I hold you in. Just that, for now.”

“You’ve never taken pains to hide it, have you?” Aldous looks away, blinking back the gathering wetness as best he can. Tears… tears won’t do. He has never wept when the sacred duty of hospitality was laid before him, and it is now. 

“I have not been… as fully forthcoming as I might have, either.”

“Goodness, I can hardly-- I have always thought you more than expressive enough in your friendship. I really do have to-- really. But-- well. You did say you know what I feel, still I think it worth saying… you truly are an _extraordinary_ man in my eyes. And I am very glad for you, tonight, of all nights. I’m very glad of you.”

They break away-- nothing else he thinks they can do. He knows he needs a moment to calm his emotions, and there is work to be done. He uses his handkerchief to dust around the guest room, leaving the door standing open. He draws the heavy velvet curtains to let some sunlight in, though the lace ones remain down-- he doesn’t think they’ve ever not been, in his house. They obscure enough, given the trees, and the space. He could have had a bigger house, but he’s always found it wiser to have more land around it. When Glen does come in bearing firewood, they exchange a smile, though he doesn’t know what else can be said, and Glen doesn’t seem to know any better. He watches him as he bends and builds a fire, stacking the logs and working in the tinder, and leaving it all so that Llewellyn won’t have to worry about that when Jack needs his attention later. 

How _kind_ of him, to think of that-- not just that these things would need to be set by the hearth for them, but that he could go to the trouble of doing the bulk of the work for later.

“Keeping a haven suits you.” He says softly, as Glen rises.

“Beg pardon?”

“This, you. You… you might not be so _visible_ as I am, dear, but you make a fine lighthouse keeper in your own right.”

“A lighthouse keeper…” There is something approaching wonder, in the softness of Glen’s voice, in the way he regards Aldous. There is something captivating in the motion of one hand as it does not rise past the level of his waist, before absently brushing away a little bit of bark from the wood he’d carried in. “Now there is a new profession I might devote myself to.”

“You could-- I mean, you could devote yourself to whatever you liked. If… if the new position you have doesn’t suit you and anything else in the world would. I just mean… you know you don’t need to bring in money, if it would take you time to establish something, or if you really did want to pursue something _for_ people. You could devote yourself to it whether or not it was profitable, I wouldn’t feel at all hard-used.”

“Aldous… I’m going to go tidy up the bath.” He turns, shuttering the look of wonder away. “Make sure I haven’t left a mess in there, make sure there’s… enough towels. I can’t imagine there aren’t enough towels. But-- I’d best see to that now.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll… as I said, I-- some books and things… creature comforts.” He nods. They leave the room one at a time, Glen disappearing into the guest bath, Aldous moving down to the study.

He pulls a variety of books-- Jack’s always been content to read on any subject, at least anything anyone in the book club has proposed, fiction or non. Once those are set by the bed, he goes up to the attic room to bring down extra pillows. He ducks in to see Jack still sleeping, before heading into the kitchen to get to work trying to feed them all. 

They have some food set aside, but only enough for two, and not something he thinks Jack can eat in his state. Soup. Well… how difficult can it be?

“Aldous Germaine in an apron.” Glen drawls, from the doorway, and he hates the way his heart leaps.

Well… and he loves it.

“Come in and help, then, you’re the one who’s learned a thing or two.” He huffs, and Glen pushes off from the doorframe, coming to join him. He’s got a pot of water on the stove and he’s set out everything he thinks ought to go into a soup, but he’s barely gotten started on cutting up the vegetables. 

Glen picks up another knife and joins him, taking on the onion. As good an excuse as any, he supposes, to shed a few tears without really calling it crying. They’re side by side close enough that both of them are feeling it-- despite the size of the kitchen, they’re close enough. 

“I haven’t learned a damn thing about making soup, mind.” Glen bumps his hip gently into Aldous’. 

“We’re two reasonably clever men, dear, I’m sure we can manage. We’ve certainly got to try.”

“I’m not sure how much salt should go in. Well… we can always add more in, we can’t take any out, suppose we should be sparing. Aldous, what on earth are you doing with that cleaver? You’re playing doctor, if you lop a hand off we’re all lost.”

“Missus Russo uses it _thus_.” He lays the blade flat over the garlic cloves, pounds the heel of his hand down on it to crush them-- a little too gingerly, they always look more crushed when she does it… “Well, not _quite_ thus.”

“Here, let me give it a whack-- can you start getting this into the pot?”

He nods, switching places, moving to ferry vegetables over. Leftover chicken pulled apart and added as Glen begins the work of seasoning the soup… The two of them take it in turns to babysit the thing, perhaps more closely than a seasoned chef ought, but he doesn’t really know. 

“We’re doing all right, aren’t we?” Aldous asks, as they hover over it.

“It looks like soup. Smells like soup. Close enough, at least. If it was me on that couch I’d probably be satisfied, it’s just our luck we’re feeding someone who knows food.”

“As long as he gets _fed_ I’m happy.” He frowns, the unbidden and unwanted image of Glen in a similar state coming strong into his mind. It wouldn’t even need to be for the same reason, though of course any other cause and he would be free to seek proper attention elsewhere. But he could easily find himself hurt, perhaps badly so, trying to prevent a robbery, stepping in to stop a fight going out of hand somewhere… even now that he’s not a policeman, he could easily find himself in the same kind of trouble. “Will you go and check on him, dear? If he’s awake, I just… I wouldn’t like him to be suffering in need of something.”

“Of course.” Glen touches his back briefly before peeling away from the stove. “Be right back.”

Aldous wonders how one knows when soup is finished. It all just looks like soup.

It’s not too long before Glen comes striding back in.

“Is he all right, am I needed?”

“Llewellyn’s with him.” He takes Aldous by the shoulders. “Look, before-- I-- Aldous… I wouldn’t ask you to support me, I wouldn’t… I’m not the kind of man who’s happy when he’s not working. But… maybe, maybe there’s something better out there for me than working security. And maybe I could do more to help people. And maybe… all I really want is to be your lighthouse keeper. But if you tell me you want to see me do that, if you tell me you would support me in it, I’m afraid I might kiss you again. So… fair warning. I don’t want to undo any part of the safety you’ve made for yourself. But there’s a chance I-- there’s a chance I don’t really know enough about how you feel, to count myself out yet.”

“Glen…” He swallows. Tries to sort through all that he feels in this moment, all the things he’d thought he never would. “After supper, after we’ve seen our guests cared for… please ask me again. I can’t give you the answer I’d like to just now, just this moment-- but I’d like to.”

Glen nods, hands slow to leave him. He lifts one just briefly to Aldous’ cheek. “After the children are asleep?”

“Honestly.” He blushes, and glances away. “Will you?”

“I will.”

For a moment, the kitchen is silent and still, and it’s only the simple happiness of being near to him… and then there’s soup to see to, friends to see to, but…

There’s a promise now.


	2. Private Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After 'the children' are asleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some minor computer issues again and this wound up being later than I'd hoped but... here it is!

They pause together at the end of the evening, down the hall between their doors. Glen takes Aldous’ hand, hesitating only a moment.

“Are we to keep each other?” He asks, slowly raising that hand to his lips.

“Oh-- Glen… please.” He sways forward, as Glen kisses his knuckles, as he leaves his lips there.

“May I kiss you?”

“I’m still stunned you should wish to. You may.”

“The man you are, and you’re stunned I should want you?”

“I’m sure I’m far from the prettiest partner you’ve had, my dear. I’m-- it’s been a long time since I’ve-- I mean…” With his free hand, he gestures to himself. “Pale and ginger and not the most impressive of specimens on any count. I’m not anyone’s first choice.”

“You…” He cups Aldous’ cheek now, leans in close, there is a delicious tension that builds with the nearness of him, like the tension which holds a droplet of water together where it sits upon a blade of grass. “You’re mine. You always talk about yourself like you’re some old man whose life is behind him. It’s not. You’ve grown accustomed to giving so much up. Permit me to give it back to you, I won’t let you suffer for it. You have a _life_ ahead of you, Aldous. Twenty good years of getting it up, I’d wager. Twenty more after that to be celibate again if you like, but… permit me. And I will care for you.”

“It’s not all bad. I-- I may have lacked companionship, of a particular nature, but it’s not as if I’ve given up every physical pleasure. I have my devices and my etchings.”

“These past _fourteen weeks_ , you have had _devices_ and _etchings_ , and only a wall between us? And I never knew?” He pulls back at this, staring.

“They’re not the most terribly _exciting_ devices on the market. Nothing that couldn’t be excused as a purely medical… well. Would you like to see my etchings?”

“I would like to see _you_. We can use my bed-- keep any physical evidence out of yours.”

“I hardly expect to have my bedsheets inspected tomorrow morning. People are used to me as I am, they’ve answered enough indecency calls only to find everyone decent, to accept that I get something out of purely non-sexual company. And as for us…” He chuckles, leaning further into Glen’s touch. “My other friends-- my friends who are more _pedestrian_ in their tastes-- think me Tantalus in the underworld. You, a handsome and entirely ordinary young man, living in my house. Me, free to look and never to touch. A compelling romantic tragedy. Perhaps I… perhaps I can rest on the reputation I have built, and deny myself no longer, if you wish it as I do.”

“Imagine, being so blind as to think you wouldn’t have every chance with me.” Glen laughs, wraps both arms around him and hauls him in close, their bodies pressed together. “I’m _mad_ for you.”

“Oh-- oh my!” Aldous is left with no recourse but to cling to him, really… to hold onto his shoulders.

“Hush, you’ll wake the whole house.” He teases. “Aldous… me? Really?”

“I thought you would be uncomfortable, if you knew. And I worried you would realize, I wasn’t always… I am not a subtle man. But I never imagined I could catch your interest.”

“No… I-- for a little while, I thought perhaps you loved George. No, I know--”

“George? I mean I do feel a special fondness for him, and admittedly I think he shares some of your fine inner qualities, but--” Aldous begins, then stops himself with a gasp. “Is that why you were _sulking_ when we started his book? Because you thought I was in love with him? You were _jealous_?”

“I might have been.”

“You ridiculous man, you had me spending all night wondering what I could have done to upset you.” He smacks at Glen’s chest, though it’s rather too gentle to carry much sting. “And all that time you-- you… me?”

“Yes.” He cups Aldous’ cheek, one arm still tight around his waist. “I, you. For… some time now. I’ve admired you. And I’ve loved you. You didn’t think you could catch my interest, I never believed I could hold yours.”

“Oh, Glen, you’ve held it… Do you know, when we were introduced, I found you so terribly charming. I was sure you would forget all about me…”

“Forget you?”

“You turned my head when you walked through the door, I thought you must have been spoken for… and then you stood there at my elbow and flattered me with your attention… and then I learned the man you are, how stalwart, how selfless. And I thought it was enough to count you among my friends. I was satisfied… having you under my roof, making your coffee in the mornings, seeing you off for your work before I would head off to mine. Coming home to you in the evenings. I yearned, of course, but I was satisfied. I was satisfied to yearn.”

“To be near you… I thought I would be happy enough just being near you. And I could have been, if you-- if you had told me you couldn’t. If you told me that you couldn’t, I could be contented, living as we have been, and knowing you love me. There’s nothing you need to do, to keep me.”

‘’Glen, dear? Do kiss me.”

Glen does. 

It’s lovely. If he had thought he had forgotten what it was to be kissed, Glen reminds him in an instant. What a man’s mouth can do, how it can feel to be wanted, he’d known those things, once. How it can feel to be _cherished_ , this is new… Glen pours such feeling into it, he hasn’t known feeling like that before. But he remembers how to kiss back, and he hopes he puts as much love back into it.

It begins tender, that hand at his cheek and Glen’s lips soft against his own, and then that hand slides up into his hair and Glen’s tongue begins a slow slide against his own, and he… he has gone so long without the pleasure of being kissed, but even that pales in comparison to the pleasure of being _loved_. Loved quietly, ardently, and by a good man. And for how long? Did it happen here in this house, had it begun before? Was there a day when they were talking together as any two friends may and Glen suddenly saw him in some new light? Glen, who holds him and kisses him and makes him quite forget why he’d spent all these years celibate… Glen, who has promised him as much or as little as he might be ready to accept.

“You were… going to show me your etchings?” He says, breathless, lips brushing Aldous’ cheek.

“If you like. My goodness, I’ve not-- in a long time.” Aldous laughs, nervous. He takes Glen’s hand as they unwind from each other, reaches back with his other to open his door, to draw Glen after him back into his room.

Glen looks around, once they’re in, lets out a whistle. Aldous doesn’t know that the bedroom rates _that_ \-- his guest accommodations are fully as comfortable as his own bed, Glen’s in particular. He’d put him in the rose bedroom, named for the view of the back garden through the window but also for the plush red silks and velvets-- the curtains, the bedspread, the settee between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. And the red-on-red Morris and Company wallpaper, though that was technically not roses, only a floral. The tiles around the fireplace and the painting hanging over it. The room may be smaller, but everything in it is exactingly chosen, is lush and comfortable and warm.

Aldous’ own bedroom is somewhat sterile in comparison, the silver-white bachelors’ buttons wallpaper, the cold marble hearth, the rug and slipper chairs before it white. The bedding all white-- all right, the bed itself is somewhat fanciful, the framework for the lace canopy bearing some slight resemblance to a golden birdcage. Still, it’s…

He likes it, of course, it’s his bedroom, but it’s designed for calm more than anything else, a place to empty his thoughts at the end of the day and to begin with a clean slate in the mornings. Clean. It’s the only room in the house not to have paintings on the walls, only a large mirror over the fireplace, and a full-length one beside the white and gilt armoire. It’s an oasis of his own particular sort, but even the attic room has more romance to it.

“Do you like it all right, then?”

“I was expecting peacocks and purple velvet with gold tassels. But I like this, yes. It’s peaceful… but it’s still you.”

“You say that as if I am not peaceful.” Aldous teases.

“You… you are… everything.” And Glen grabs for him again, pulls him near again, kisses him again. “You’re not clean white and empty space.”

“Perhaps not, but a white, empty space does set me off to some advantage, does it not? I am the most colorful thing in this room. And it gives me some peace, when I am all a riot myself. And there are peacock feathers.” He gestures to the vase in the corner. “Just from albino peacocks.”

“I stand corrected.” Glen laughs. “But I still like it. Move me in?”

“All right, but your things stay next door, I’ve simply no room left in my wardrobe. And… in case anyone ever-- So the room will look occupied.”

“So the room will look occupied.” He nods. “I can always go in and muss the bedclothes, spread some ash in the fireplace. Just in case.”

“It doesn’t happen often. But it’s been a while, and it might. I want you to be safe if it does. And… they would drag out anything they could find, if we weren’t careful.”

“I will be careful with you.” Glen guides him back to stand beside the bed, loosening his ascot-- another thrill he’d thought he’d forgotten, to be undressed by a lover. But Glen _is_ careful, with the ascot he removes and gently lays upon the nightstand, with each hand he lifts that he might remove a cufflink and place it there upon the pooled fabric. The second time he does so, he folds back the cuff of Aldous’ shirt, and presses his lips to the pulse point of his wrist.

“Oh my…”

“If you liked that, you’re really going to like what else these lips can do.” Glen bobs his eyebrows. 

“I’m sure that I will, dearest. I-- I haven’t, in some time… You’ll have to forgive my rust.”

“I think I could forgive you a great many things, a man of your charms. _If_ you show me those etchings you mentioned.” He unfastens Aldous’ collar, gently dropping it atop the heap on the dresser. 

“Oh, in that case…” He slides his nightstand drawer out, removes a few sundry items in order to get to the false bottom. He brings the album out and places it in Glen’s hands. 

“Does an Arrow Collar man ad really count as an ‘etching’?” Glen teases, flipping it open.

“Well it’s the first _page_ , one has to start somewhere. One doesn’t jump straight to the main affair without a bit of a build-up.”

“Oh, sure.” He laughs. “A little tease, a little foreplay.”

There are some tasteful nudes, athletic young men, some poses more provocative than others. Some in charcoal, in pencil. And then after that, the real meat of the collection, the proper erotic etchings. Men alone, in pairs, in threes in some. Erections on full display, framed to draw the eye, heavy-lidded gazes, sexual acts in various states of undress. Mouths, more often than not, but one or two very intimate views of the act of preparation as well as penetration. One of a man on hands and knees, taken from both ends. One of a man over his partner’s knee, a little light flogging-- Glen raises his eyebrows when he gets to that one.

“It came with the collection.” Aldous shrugs, face heating. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Not what you’re into?”

“Not in particular. I’m afraid I’m a delicate blossom, dear, I require gentler handling than this.” He traces a fingertip over the image, flips the page and taps another, a tenderer scene, a pair of lovers entwined in foreplay, no particular act. A press of lips, hands against chest, thigh. Biting his lip, he looks to Glen’s face, watches the way his eyes trace over it. “A little more like this?”

“A little more like this.” He nods, and sets the album aside. He turns back to Aldous, to push the jacket from his shoulders, to lean in and kiss his lips. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“I think you’re mad.”

“Let me be, then. You’re what I want. You’re all I want.”

He continues stripping Aldous’ clothes away, until he’s standing in his underthings, and Glen places a hand at the center of his chest, steering him, gently pushing him down to the bed. It’s high enough that there’s not far to fall back-- indeed, Glen gets a hand under one thigh to help him up properly onto it, and he sinks down into the softness of it. It’s a familiar softness, it’s his bed, but it feels different tonight.

“Wait… right… there.” Glen smiles, taps a finger over his hammering heart, and then against his lower lip. “Just beautiful.”

“Well now I know you must love me.” Aldous says-- he might tremble, how odd, how long has it been since he’s _trembled_?-- and he couldn’t look away if he wanted to. Not that he can imagine wanting to. “If you were not looking through the eyes of love, you would never call me ‘beautiful’.”

“Perhaps not. I’ll never know. I do love you.” Glen starts tearing his own clothes off with much less care than he had treated Aldous’. “I love every fussy, flamboyant, fantastically _brave_ thing about you.”

Aldous shifts to lie lengthwise on the bed, up on one elbow to watch Glen undress. “And I you, my own _good_ man. I believe in you, you know… when I said I would support you, in leaving this new job, in discovering something else, it’s not because you’re handsome and fit and I like you very much. Not only.”

“I was afraid of that. Ohh, you’re stuck with me now, you can’t say a thing like that to a man. I’ll never leave.”

“Good.” He reaches out, beckoning Glen in. “I like making your coffee.”

Glen pulls off his undershirt, joining Aldous on the bed-- affording him a first touch to a very nice chest, as he finds himself rolled onto his back and trapped very pleasantly beneath some of Glen’s weight, the contact between their hips. “Good. I like bringing in your firewood.”

“I like taking you your hot water bottle.”

“I like chopping your onions.”

“Will you be taking up that task regularly?”

“I may. I’m… learning, to cook. A bit. I could, to feed you. We didn’t do too badly at soup, I thought.”

“Well. I would like that, too. And no, not too badly. We-- we might not do too badly at a lot of things, together.”

“We might even do well.” Glen says, with a bob of his eyebrows. With a roll of his hips. 

“Oh-- very well indeed.” Aldous clings to him, lets his head fall back when Glen leans in, revels in the nearness of their bodies and the line of kisses that progresses down his throat. No love bites sucked to the surface, no nipping of teeth, only kisses which cannot properly be called chaste, but which nonetheless remain _gentle_.

Glen only parts from him to rid them both of their remaining underthings. Well, he unfastens sock garters, cannot summon the focus to worry about removing socks entirely when everything else is out of the way and Aldous is laid out otherwise naked before him.

He has an average body, he thinks-- always has thought. He’d been attractively round as a small child and attractively slender as a youth and now as a man he isn’t really anything, in his own eyes. Compact, but not small. Not thin, nor fat, nor muscular, nor anything in any extreme. It’s a perfectly serviceable body as far as what little he needs it for may go, it’s a little paler than what is fashionable. It bears a couple of flat, pale tan moles, nearly always hidden, and is otherwise unmarred. There’s nothing about it he’s _ashamed_ of, and things about it he normally likes… but it’s been closer to twenty years than to ten since he took stock of his naked body and thought it was something to drive a lover wild.

And Glen is… well. Glen is… _luminous_. The trim, athletic build, the dusting of golden hair down his chest, the set of his shoulders… the jade green eyes and the shape of his lips and the way that they turn up into a smile at once wry and sweet, and really just everything about him…

And… one thing about him especially, which Aldous had not really allowed himself to imagine in any detail.

“Oh-- oh my…”

“Is that good, or…?”

“Glen, dearest, _very_. Though what you intend to do with it all, I’m not sure I’m prepared for.”

“Nothing you’re not prepared for.” He laughs. “Your _devices_ aren’t this big?”

“You really do make my _devices_ sound more exciting than the reality of it, and no-- not… I only use the smallest size.”

“The idea of you with any kind of _devices_ is exciting enough to me. Another time I hope we can play around with them together. Tonight… it’s enough to be with you. It’s enough to be touched by you. I don’t ask for much, Aldous, I’m not difficult to satisfy.”

“Perhaps you could help me… adjust. Over time. But… what I can do to satisfy you in the meantime, I’m more than happy.”

He does have the set of dilators, just because he only sometimes slips the smallest one in to feel a little stretch doesn’t mean he couldn’t work his way up. He certainly likes the _idea_ of taking Glen, but he’d hardly dared dream… 

“I have no doubt of that.” Glen rolls his hips down into Aldous’ again, this time with nothing between them, all skin on skin, all the feel of that _magnificent_ cock against his own. He kisses him deeply, their bodies building a rhythm. “You’re… oh, you’re very solicitous when it comes to seeing that I’m _satisfied_.”

“Well, I like to be a good host.” Aldous chuckles, fingers playing through Glen’s hair. “I like to see you satisfied.”

“Well, you will.” He bumps their noses together, angles in and kisses him once more, light. “Just stay with me, it’ll happen.”

“I’m with you.”

They rock against each other a while longer, exchanging long, slow kisses, before Glen breaks away, one hand at Aldous’ chest to hold him in place-- no firm touch to pin him, only the gentlest suggestion. Aldous takes that suggestion, lying back and allowing Glen to shift away, to look down at him a moment, so terribly warm, so sweet… how many looks like this one has he been hiding, these months together?

He kisses his way down Aldous’ throat, then, his chest. Trails over to one nipple before continuing his downwards journey-- when Aldous squirms at a light kiss to his belly, Glen looks up at him with a grin of sheer, wicked delight, before paying his most ardent attentions there, nuzzling and kissing everywhere, his weight pinning Aldous’ legs down just to keep him from accidentally sending a knee into his ribs. 

“You beast!” Aldous laughs, slapping at Glen’s shoulder. “You barbarian!”

“You’re not exactly putting me off…” 

“Oh, you _wicked_ boy!” He winds his fingers through Glen’s hair again, though he can’t really bear to treat him un-gently, and so cannot pull him from the task he’s so devoted to. The light tracing of the tip of his tongue so near Aldous’ navel.

“You love it.”

“I love _you_. You’re a torturer.”

“You’re a delicate blossom, I’m only treating you delicately.” He says, all false innocence, and he blows a stream of air over wettened skin. “I love _you_.”

“Oh, Glen… oh, dearest, couldn’t you just…?”

“Couldn’t I just…?” Another teasing grin, another too-light kiss and a flick of the tongue.

“Lower?”

He obliges, though not where Aldous meant-- still… Glen isn’t wrong, there’s something about this, too, that he loves. The attention… the playfulness. 

His inner thighs are also sensitive, though he’s less terribly ticklish there. He could almost relax, as Glen goes between one and the other, laying soft kisses, except for the way he inches up, the building heat in even the gentlest touch. 

“I’ve wanted this…” Glen sighs, breath gusting over Aldous’ balls, in the moment before Glen’s tongue gets acquainted. “Mm, thought about you… I don’t know how you spent years of your life celibate, three months not sucking your cock has been driving me _crazy_.”

“O-oh…”

“I would have, when you first moved me in…” He begins laying kisses up the underside. “If you had offered me my choice of beds, I’d have jumped into yours… I was lonely and you were sweet… knew I liked you enough to, knew I would have a good time if you wanted it… thought I would scratch that itch at the party and then, well… but I didn’t know I’d fall in love. I didn’t know you would become so _vital_ to me. In those early days of seeing your face across the breakfast table, your ever-giving nature, evenings in, I soon _longed_ for domesticity.”

“Oh, my _dear_ , my dear…”

It really has been too long, everything is new again, everything is overwhelming. Even the slightest of attentions is his entire world. 

“I could hardly admit to myself all you came to mean to me… and then I could hardly escape it, and you were everywhere, and you were everything…”

He’s never been anyone’s _everything_. He’s been a bit of a good time. He’s been the best available, but such was coming of age going from boarding school to university, amongst young men of breeding who never adequately learned how to talk to a lady beyond the driest and most polite of social niceties, and were rather impatient for things ladies of breeding didn’t give easily. And he’d been pretty then, or at least not un-pretty, in the years between seventeen and twenty. It was a brief and shining period in which he had been many lovely things to many lovely lads, but he’s never been anyone’s everything before.

And Glen _means_ it, he has no doubt. There is something so _devotional_ in his ragged breaths, his half-whispered words, the way he nuzzles and licks between sweet words, the way he has one hand around Aldous now and the way he presses him to his cheek when he has too much to say to keep lavishing kisses upon him… 

And then, Glen takes him into his mouth entirely, swallows encouragingly around him until he finds his completion-- until he can’t do else-- and Aldous thinks it isn’t only his memory, it’s _real_ , that it was never this good before. If it had ever been so good, he wouldn’t have gone so long without it. 

Glen rolls onto his back beside him, taking Aldous’ hand, holding just that a while as he lets him recover his breath. When he turns, it’s to see a very fond look aimed his way. 

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

“Very.”

“And it doesn’t leave any physical evidence, if that’s an enticement to doing it again.”

“Glen Scott, if you offered to do that to me in the middle of a crowded room, I’d let you.” He groans. “Mm… may I?”

“Please.”

He rearranges himself to be able to do the same, though with much greater difficulty, given what he has to work with and how long he’s gone not doing it. Still… there’s something exciting about struggling to climb that mountain.

Glen plays with his hair, smiling down at him.

“Sorry, dear, it’s just a _lot_ to get started on.”

“I’d say ‘take your time’, but I might die.” He chuckles, and with one hand still in Aldous’ hair, he wraps the other around himself. “Here, just… ohh…”

It’s gratifying, to have him melt into a groan at just the touch of his tongue, and Aldous does what he can with that, with taking as much of him in as he can-- with letting Glen ease him into it, one hand ever in his hair. A not-insurmountable task, as it happens, one he’ll get better at with practice. 

He does hope to get frequent practice.

Glen finishes on him more than in his mouth, looks at him with open awe and adoration as it drips down his cheek and lands on Glen’s thigh.

“Was that all right?”

“Ye gods, man, you could have laid there and done nothing and allowed me to make this kind of a mess out of you and I’d have been happy.” He collapses back with a sigh. 

“Come and clean up with me after and you can make this kind of mess of me whenever you like.”

“I’m never leaving this bed.”

“Much as I like the sound of _that_ , I’m going to clean up, and I’d appreciate your company, dear.”

Glen groans, as Aldous leaves the bed, and then rolls out of bed himself. 

“I admit, I’m interested to see your private bath. I can’t imagine much between your guest bath and the palace of Versailles.” He teases, sauntering after him.

“It’s just a bath, Glen, honestly.” Aldous rolls his eyes, but he does throw the door wide with something of a flourish. After all, his canopy bath _is_ something he’s rather proud of. First and foremost for the utility of it, in being able to provide a rinse or a soak, and secondly for the peacock green enameled outside, the copper fittings polished to a sheen. 

There are colorful peacock feathers in vases in here, deep plum walls, the sink a porphyry bowl beneath a copper swan’s head for a faucet. The window is diamonds of colored glass, letting in light while allowing for privacy, the rug beside the tub thick and plush. 

“Just a bath?” Glen says.

“Well it’s no palace of Versailles.”

“No, the bathtub’s too modern.” He steps onto the rug, flexing his toes in it, before finding the knob for the shower portion of the canopy bath. He offers Aldous a steadying hand for stepping in, once the water is warm enough, grabbing a clean flannel so that he can wash his face. 

Beyond that, they settle for a good rinse, they don’t linger long. Glen doesn’t go next door for his pajamas, merely climbs into bed once sufficiently dried. There are two nightstands, each with its own lamp, but as only one nightstand holds a drawer with a false bottom and Aldous’ personal materials, he can intuit which side is his.

Well, both sides have been his, but still. If he had to choose one.

He doesn’t dress and go down to get the hot water bottle, but then… he thinks he can keep Glen warm enough.

When Aldous wakes in the morning, Glen is at his back, pressed firm against him, arm snug about his waist, and it’s so easy to let himself be coaxed into a lie-in… of a rather active variety. It’s late in the morning-- at least compared to their usual mornings-- before they make it out of bed and manage to dress. 

“Do you have work?” Glen asks, as they head downstairs. 

“Oh, my schedule is as I make it, dear. What I do can hardly be called _work_. I just make myself useful now and again. But you--”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m giving my notice. I-- I’m going to hang up my shingle as a private detective, if you don’t mind my working out of the house.”

“You know I don’t. I think that’s wonderful-- not that your job was a bad one, but you are wasting your intellectual capabilities there, so much of it is just you standing about frowning to deter criminals.”

“I thought… our kind, we… we have problems it isn’t always safe to take to the authorities. I mean, I’d take other clients, I’d advertise in the paper. But… with you, here… I could afford to take a few cases for free, for those who really need it.”

“Oh-- oh, of course. I would be _proud_ to contribute to your-- your being able to do that.” He stops Glen at the door. “You’re going without breakfast?”

“I’ll have to eat later. I can get coffee there.”

“It won’t be as good.”

“No.” Glen leans in to kiss him. “It won’t. But I’m running late, and you’ve already given me all the wake-up I need.”

“Glen-- I really am. Proud. To be any small part of… all this. I think you’ll be fantastic. And I think-- I just think it’s wonderful. And I can make room in the study for you to keep files, and you can use the parlor for meeting clients. And when I’m not hard at work in the art world, I’d be more than happy to help… I don’t know. Taking calls and arranging appointments. I could be your secretary.”

“A man could get in trouble with a secretary like the one you’d be, if I said yes.” He teases. Somewhere along the line, he’d wound his arms around Aldous, or possibly Aldous had began it. “I’m tempted to let you.”

“You’re simply awful, making such base insinuations about my professionalism. Just for that, you can forget all the things I was going to offer to do from under the desk.”

“Oh, don’t put those thoughts in my head when I’ve got to go out the door.”

“I can’t help it, I’m _wildly_ attracted to your ambitions, your brains, and your enormous heart. I’m so terribly excited for you.”

“Aldous…”

“Glen, dear…”

He expects a protest about work, but instead Glen kisses him, slow and deep, as if he’d not a care in the world. And really, it feels as if perhaps they don’t.


End file.
